


Fated to Meet

by Endelethil



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe, My First Fanfic, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:42:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26118991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Endelethil/pseuds/Endelethil
Summary: Aranea Highwind is working at the bar one slow, Tuesday evening when an unsuspecting customer comes in, needing advice.“Oh, I didn’t--” he stammered.“Relax, Blondie. This one’s on me.” she interrupted, popping the cap off. It opened with a faint hiss. She placed the bottle back on a coaster in front of him.“Thanks… I’m Prompto. Prompto Argentum.” he held out his hand. “And, uh, you are?”“Aranea Highwind, your friendly neighborhood bartender.” she grinned, returning his handshake.
Kudos: 3





	Fated to Meet

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is my first fic I'm posting. I got the idea to write Aranea Highwind as a bartender in Insomnia and just kinda rolled with it. I think it kinda makes sense that Prompto and Aranea's paths would've crossed at least once before the events of FFXV take place, given their Niflheim heritage. I just thought it'd be cool to explore that idea but also make it something casual like a bar setting. It's a pretty short read, but I hope you enjoy it! :)

It had been a normal enough evening. Slow, as Tuesdays tend to be. But like most bars in Insomnia, the weekend would always make up for that. With the hustle and bustle of Friday and Saturday nights, Aranea often preferred the leisurely feel of weekday evening shifts, even if the money wasn’t as good. She glanced up at the chocobo clock on the wall as she polished glasses.  
  
“Damn, only nine o’clock.” She’d been avoiding checking the time, hoping that somehow it would make the evening go by quicker. It seemed she was wrong. _Should probably find something else to do instead of re-wiping glasses all night._ She thought to herself for a moment and settled on re-wiping the bar counter instead. She just had to keep herself busy until someone else came in. That is, _if_ someone else came in tonight. She could count on one hand the number of customers that came through the door that evening. Most just came in to have one or two drinks after work and left.  
  
If they didn’t tell her themselves, she liked to imagine what each of her customers did for a living. They might be businessmen or storeowners. Hell, maybe a few of them were mercenaries in their spare time like herself. It was hard to tell what someone did just by looking at them, but it made for a fun way to pass the time on nights like this.  
  
There were two formally dressed men who came in about an hour ago, but they almost immediately moved from the bar to one of the open booths. _Bankers, probably_. She looked over at where they sat, discerning if they needed another round of drinks. _And barely through their first beers._ Nothing to do but clean.  
  
As she wiped down the counter for a third time, a man came through the door. Blond hair, blue eyes and, most notably, a member of the Kingsglaive. She didn’t have to guess with this one. He was still in uniform, minus the jacket. She watched him as he walked over and took a seat at the bar. _Finally_. Wiping everything down was starting to get boring.  
  
“What can I get you?” she asked, setting the rag down behind the bar. He pointed at one of the display beers on the shelf behind her. _Great, not a talker._ This day just kept dragging itself out.  
  
It wasn’t out of the ordinary to see Kingsglaive members at the bar. In fact, they frequented nearly every night, but they usually came in groups. She rarely saw a Glaive alone unless they were waiting on their friends. She knew something was up.  
  
“Rough day, pal?” She eyed him, setting out the beer and a cold glass. He refused the glass, gently pushing it back toward her before taking a drink. He stared into the green bottle after bringing it back down to the counter, seemingly lost in thought.  
  
“What, cat got your tongue?” she joked, walking toward where he sat. He finished off his drink and, looking up, set his now empty beer bottle on the marble counter.  
  
She reached down in the cooler and lifted up another beer before setting down in front of him, taking his empty bottle and dropping it in the nearby trash bin. “What’s your name, anyway?”  
  
“Oh, I didn’t--” he stammered.  
  
“Relax, Blondie. This one’s on me.” she interrupted, popping the cap off. It opened with a faint hiss. She placed the bottle back on a coaster in front of him.  
  
“Thanks… I’m Prompto. Prompto Argentum.” he held out his hand. “And, uh, you are?”  
  
“Aranea Highwind, your friendly neighborhood bartender.” she grinned, returning his handshake. _So, he can talk after all.  
  
_Prompto hesitated, looking back down at his beer before asking, “You ever just feel out of place? Like, you don’t really belong anywhere, or wherever you _do_ belong is too far out of reach?” _  
  
_She sighed. “You’re preaching to the choir here, kid. Would you believe me if I told you I was a Niff?”  
  
“You’re from Niflheim? Really?” His eyes grew wide with curiosity.  
  
“Yep, used to fight for the Imperial army. Was a commodore, in fact. I’m quite skilled with a spear, if I do say so myself.” she bragged, putting her hands on her hips.  
  
Prompto shook his head, confused. “Wait, if you’re from Niflheim, what are you doing in Insomnia? Aren’t we the enemies?”  
  
At that, she rolled her eyes. “No, you’re not the enemy.”  
  
She hesitated for a moment. Should she _really_ be opening up about her past to a Kingsglaive soldier? Maybe not, but she felt a strange familiarity about him. He seemed trustworthy enough, and if he really wanted to make a fuss about it, she knew she could easily kick his ass. But he really didn’t seem the fighting type, despite being a Glaive. She started wiping glasses again and continued.  
  
“Gralea went to shit after the emperor’s wife died. We were supposed to be fighting against the daemons to secure the safety of our people. But at the request of Chancellor Izunia, we started fighting alongside them. After having been on the frontlines and seeing too many innocent lives lost in the emperor’s name, I got tired of taking orders from someone who no longer seemed to care about his people. I’m not about “burning bridges” or anything, so my buddies and I left on good terms. The three of us moved out here shortly after resigning. I guess I could always go back, but mercenary work is much more my style.”  
  
“Wow, I never would’ve guessed you were a Niff, much less a commodore. Didn’t take you for a fighter at all.”  
  
_You really couldn’t tell what someone did just by looking at them._  
  
“Most people don’t. I’ve done a good job keeping it a secret for the past two years I’ve lived here, and I prefer to keep it that way.” She held one of the glasses up to the light, noting a few smudges, and started wiping again. “So, what about you, pretty boy? Why’s a Lucian feeling out of place in Insomnia?”  
  
He sighed. “I’m not exactly a native Lucian. I mean, I grew up here, yeah, but I was adopted. I don’t exactly know where I’m from, to be honest.”  
  
She nodded in acknowledgement.  
  
He continued. “The Prin- I mean, my colleagues and I are being sent to Altissia next week on an assignment. Although, it kinda sounds like it’ll be more of a road trip than anything. I guess I’m just feeling a bit of imposter syndrome. Like, I don’t really belong in this group of amazing soldiers. Ignis is the perfect tactician, Gladio’s fighting prowess is unparalleled, and here I come in, guns blazing. No, literally, I just shoot guns…that’s it. How I made it through the ranks of Kingsglaive is nothing but a stroke of pure luck.”  
  
He thought she would laugh at him, but the look on Aranea’s face told him she understood his feelings completely. She put the glass down and met his gaze. Fighting type or not, he held the same fire in his eyes that she held in hers. It was a fire she rarely saw in others. Only true, skilled soldiers had eyes like this.  
  
“You know, I was quite young when I joined the Imperial army. Very young. In fact, I was one of the youngest combatants to rise through the ranks and become commodore. I know what you’re feeling. I felt the same way, commanding men and women that had been in the army longer than I. Truth be told, I still felt like anyone else would be better suited to give orders up until the day I resigned.” she admitted.  
  
She paused. In retrospect, she had been a damn good commodore, always keeping in mind the wellbeing of those she commanded. She fought with unrivaled tenacity and vigor when she was on the frontlines, thinking only of protecting her fellow men and defending their homeland. Although she could see similarities between Lucis and the Empire, she knew that the Kingsglaive had the potential to do far better by Eos and her people. Maybe Lucis and the Glaives could begin to repair the damage done by the Empire, but each soldier would need to recognize that potential and take pride in their rank. Prompto needed to feel a sense of importance, not like he was just another fish in the sea.  
  
“I guess my best advice for you is to trust yourself. You wouldn’t be in the position you’re in if you didn’t have what it takes. If the Kingsglaive is anything like the Imperial army, your superiors likely had their eye on you for a while before deciding to elevate your rank. I can guarantee with near certainty that you weren’t just randomly plucked from the bunch. So, don’t doubt yourself.”  
  
At that, Prompto finished off his second beer. He reached down and pulled a 20 gil banknote from his wallet, smiling as he placed it on the counter in front of Aranea. As he turned to leave, he stopped, looking over his shoulder.  
  
“Thanks, Aranea.”  
  
“No problem, Blondie. Come back to chat with me anytime.”  
  
After he left, she checked the wall clock again.  
  
“Only two more hours.” And with that, she returned to cleaning the bar.


End file.
